grief
by une boheme
Summary: This is my first fic. It's a very complicated premise: but it's basically aragorn, legoals, arwen, in battle, arwen dies, consequences. legolas' pov, mostly. a/l slash later on. wow! an a/l slash where aragorn REALLY TRULY loved arwen! crazy. PLEEZ r/r!!
1. 1

**YOU SHOULD READ THIS BECAUSE OTHERWISE THE STORY MIGHT NOT MAKE ANY SENSE**

God, this is so scary. My first fic. Anyway, it's set post LotR, ignoring the Appendices pretty much completely (yes yes, I read the appendices, I like the appendices, but they got in the way of this story), but I haven't read Silmarillion (sp?) so if I make mistakes on that count, sorry. Premise is, I don't know how, I don't know why (but I will! Someday I will!) Legolas, Aragorn, Arwen, are (with A and A's kids--one son Eldaron, twin daughters Analera and Eva--because I hate cutesy matching twin names) in some big hall. It's in Sauron's palace. They're fighting to get out. Or anyway, that's what I think they're fighting for at the moment. It's probably part of some larger struggle. It always is. Sorry about all the funky explaination necessary, but I take 'em likes they comes to me. And I swore I'd never use bold! anyhoo, I want tons of reviews, please make all criticism constructive--you don't have to be nice, I can take it, but please tell me how to make it better because I'm always trying to improve. 

Disclaimer, you know the routine, and by the way I wrote this in twenty minutes and I have no beta reader (who wants to be my beta reader?) so it might suck ass. Goodbye! 

_"Get the children to safety!" _

_"Arwen! Get back! You'll be killed!"_

_"Get the children to safety, Aragorn! You're wounded! Take the children and get out!" _

_"I can't leave you!" _

_Legolas could do naught but watch his King and Queen, his dearest friends, wantonly wasting precious time for one another. He could do naught but fight beside them. _

_Aragorn could see with terrifyingly clear vision what would happen to Arwen in a moment if he didn't get to Sauron's archer in time. He didn't hesitate, ignored the blood dripping steadily out of him, ignored his growing weakness and the black edging his vision. He launched himself at his foe, locked in a vacuum with his wife and her impending doom. He saw the smiling black-clad marksman cock an arrow, and his blade flashed out, killing the minion. _

_One second too late. Arwen was slain, as was her killer. _

_Legolas watched in horror, leaving himself open to attack but lucky enough to dodge a near-fatal blow. Aragorn was spinning, stumbling, making his way to his fallen Queen. The children had had the sense to hide above, in a balcony, and had seen nothing. _

_**"Take them alive!"** Lord Sauron's voice rang out. **"Take them ALIVE!"** _

_Needing no longer to fear death, Legolas followed Aragorn across the marble hall, gaining on him quickly, overtaking him, catching him as he fell at his now-fled Tinuviel's side. _

_"She does not breathe," he murmured. "Why does she not breathe?" _

_"You are bleeding, Aragorn. Let me bind the wound." The one surviving elf in the room tried to pull an agitated Elessar away from Arwen, catching a suprisingly strong blow across his mouth for his pains. Spitting out blood, he saw Aragorn desperately cradling Arwen, dissolving into an incoherent fool and finally fainting, the puddle of his own blood growing until it blended with that of his fallen love's; and looking beyond, he saw the minions of Sauron, swarming, coming with chains; and beyond, the sobbing children of King Aragorn Elessar, being borne away from the chamber of battle where they had just lost so much. _

------ 

I fear for Aragorn, for his life, for his sanity. It has been two nights and a day, and he does not wake. A fever burns in him now, since this dawn. Even if he does wake, I do not know if he will still be the Aragorn I love. 

The relative freedom and humane treatment we have been granted in this house of evil both delights and worries me. I delight in being allowed to care for Aragorn and to comfort and care for the children, but I suspect of Sauron some grand and terrifying doom to come. 

The children have barely stopped crying, except to sleep. The twins, Analera and Eva, I do not think will remember this period later in life, they being yet only three winters in the world, but for the boy, Eldarion, Darry, at an exceptionally old twelve, I fear this will be a source of prolonged sorrow. 

The grief for me now is strong as well, but I may master myself for our survival. I held Arwen dear. It is a great comfort to me that we shall meet again, and I ache for Aragorn, whose race gives him no such assurance. 

I dearly hope these noble children shall not now lose both mother _and_ father. 

------ 

He lives. The fever has broken and only lightly troubles him now. 

At first when he awoke, he was full of confusion and concern for me (I must appear more haggard and careworn than I realized. There are no mirrors in this dark house), and I had not the heart to tell him what had passed. I need not have torn up my soul over that, for he remembered of himself in a few moments. He seemed to see some vision of her death, gazing into my ocean'd eyes, and he began to tremble. "She is dead," he murmured, then louder, "She is dead." He did not see me any longer. "She is lost to me. She is lost to me forever, she is gone." No tears fell for a long moment, a long tense while. When he did begin to weep, it was no healing, calm flood of tears. It was an angry burst of feeling that seemed to rend him into two parts. 

I could not help him to peace. 

He lay back out of pure exhaustion and pain finally, glassy-eyed. Someday I hope he shall find peace, but at least for present there is none. 

------ 

He does not cry any longer. He remains in sullen silence all the day long, still unable to rise from his bed. I do not let the children near him. 

Eldaron presses me to grant him audience with his father. I did not want to explain to him that Aragorn is no longer the father he has always known and loved. 

------ 

He wastes away, growing weaker by the day it seems, and I do not see how it happens. We are all of us fed regularly, but while the young ones grow hale and strong and I remain as well as ever I was on the suprisingly wholesome food here, but Aragorn grows sunken-cheeked and spare, sallow and I fear he soon will be at death's very door. 

I grow angry with him. He is not the man I know and care for. I understand that he had always planned on losing himself far before Arwen, and I do not think Arwen herself would have grudged a switch of his death for hers if she could see now how he is. 

And yet I am angry. Does he not recall that he has three bairns to care for yet? 

------ 

I have discovered it at last, and I feel heavy now. 

His food has been going to one of the young vassals that bring us our daily fare. 

"He looked malnourished," Aragorn explained to me in a rational and bored voice in the face of my wrath and concern. "I get more satisfaction from his enjoyment than I would from the food itself." 

"Why are you bent on causing your own death?" I shouted. 

"You know the answer, Legolas," he sighed. 

_"You have three children, Aragorn!_ They will not raise themselves! They need a father." 

"You are there." 

"I cannot care for your children. They love you. They will hate me if you die and I live. They love you, they need you, Aragorn, as do I. Do you not remember your children? Do you not remember the joy they brought you?" 

He was cowed into silence. After a long pause, he said meekly, "I think I could stomach a little bread." 

And still I am not as glad as I should be. He was ruled by me. If he yet had the strength and will I loved in him, he would never have made such a concession. 

I feel selfish and guilty, and yet I can only hope I shall someday have the old Aragorn back with us.

Glad that's over and done with. PLEASE review. PLEASE. I'm a review whore. There's more where this came from, but of course, if you don't tell me that you would like to see more, I will assume that nobody wants to see it and I will not update it. Well, thanks for listening, if you did listen, and please tell me how to make it better! 


	2. 2

Thank you muchly to the lovely people who wrote lovely reviews! I'm a little iffy on this chapter, but I'm trying real hard to keep in character, etc. etc., so if I did it wrong, just drop me a line! Actually, drop me a line anyway! Or a whole paragraph, even! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review!!! 

----- 

Eldaron broke his way into his father's chamber. He ran beyond my arm. 

He stopped short when he saw the gaunt, ill man in the bed. I do not think he recognized his own father until he spoke. 

"Darry!" He sat up in his bed and wrapped thin arms, still strong, around his shaking son, who was close to tears. "I am sorry you have seen me like this," he said at length. 

Then he began to cry. He cried, and Eldaron drew back. Something passed between them that I do not understand. I have no children, and though I have become as close as may be to the children of Aragorn and Arwen, I do not understand the complicated ties that run between parent and child. 

Eldaron ran from the room. He was frightened, that I know, and I saw a mix of other emotions on his face, and though I do not understand it, his tumult had something to do with seeing Aragorn in such a state. It was probably, as I think on it, the first time he had seen tears on his father's face. 

Aragorn doubled up, sobbing as he had done when he first woke. I moved to comfort him, but he reached up and shoved me back, and I, taken unawares, fell to the ground. 

"Get away, Legolas. If ever you had any concern or any respect for me, get out of this room now," he said, in a suprisingly clear voice. I stood and caught his wrists. 

"Don't do this," I warned. "Don't send us all away." 

"Did I send my son away? No, he ran, ran of his own accord. I frighten him. What is there left if I frighten my own children?" 

----- 

I think the old Aragorn may be cautiously coming back into life. What cause for rejoicing! 

"I must get out of this room, Legolas," he told me. "I must get up and move around. Help me to walk." 

As I helped him out of the bed, being careful not to hurt him or touble his wound, I was struck by the vulnerability his naked body showed now. So thin and weak, so needful of my help. It brought out feelings in me that could not easily be defined. "Love." "Fear." "Resentment." "Hate." "Arousal." "Anger." "Protectiveness." All easy feelings, and I cannot tell which it was. 

He dressed in soft cotton that had been waiting for him for weeks. He smiled as he buckled on his swordbelt and bracers, happy, I think, that they were still there. Looking around, he found his hauberk and the rest of the mail. A little hope dawned on his face. 

"I suppose it is far too much to hope they have left me Anduril?" I nodded. 

"They took everything we could actually hurt them with. They left me my bow, but broke the tips off all the arrows." He nodded. He had never really expected otherwise. 

He finished dressing without my assistance, but when he tried to walk alone, I had to jump to catch him. He clung to me unsteadily, grabbing handfuls of my jerkin and gripping until his knuckles turned white. He let me hold him up for a moment, resting his head on my shoulder, but soon straightened. 

As we walked through the light-starved corridors we were allowed movement in, Aragorn glanced into a room where Eldaron commonly spend his time. Indeed, the boy was there now, practicing archery with my bow and some blunted arrows. 

"You're holding it all wrong," Aragorn barked. Eldaron turned to his father with a sullen and frowning face, but I saw the grin that came first. He walked across to his son with less help than he'd needed before, and took the boys hands in his, demonstrating over and over the proper technique until the boy got it right. 

"You're still holding it too low," he would say at intervals, or "All the way back to your cheek, boy!" 

When he was at last satisfied, he turned to me, clutching my arm. We walked out together, back into the black corridors, as Eldaron continued drawing and releasing, drawing and releasing. Once out of the boy's sight, Aragorn went limp, and I scrambled to hold him. 

"I overstepped my reach," he said, chuckling. "But he _was_ doing it wrong." 

I slept well that night. 

------ 

Sorry it was so short, but what can I say? Please review and tell me how it's coming. If there are no reviews, of course I will assume you don't want more. Argle bargle, this is harder than it looks! Anyway, remember that to read is human, to review divine! Tips on improvement would be molto appreciated!!! Goodnight and have a pleasant tomorrow. 


	3. 3

Lovely people, lovely reviews, THANK YOU! Well, here's the next bit. I don't know--does it deserve a higher rating?

If there's anyone out there who is up to the huge task of beta-reading me, I'd love it! 

And much as I hate to admit it, I could use some tutelage in sex scenes, too. Much obliged. 

------ 

My fear is growing in this place. I begin to see more of the black-clad swarmers in our corridors. Are they more fearful now that Isildur's heir, he who can weild the Sword That Was Broken, now he again has a will to live? 

Perhaps they are. And they should be. He said something that made me evermore alert and watchful. 

"Legolas," he said, eyes rolling like a startled horse, "I fear for my daughters in this place." He reached out and grasped my arm. "I know how much anxiety Arwen had, for herself and for them, when we first came here." He paused a moment, and I caught my breath. It was the first time he had mentioned Arwen all this time. "I know they are only yet bairns, but nonetheless I cannot help but imagine of Sauron...his brutality must not be underestimated...I...." 

"I understand, Aragorn," I said, frowning. 

"You will keep close watch on Analera and Eva, then?" He was so agitated that I, too, caught his fear, felt it seeping into my bones. "Especially Analera. She knows neither fear nor caution and needs a close keeper." 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. I think he was fighting back tears, perhaps tears of frustration. He has had not enough strength to leave his bed again, and it troubles him greatly. 

It troubles me also. 

And now I am much troubled for the girls. 

----- 

I am spending so much time with the twins, I almost begin to worry that they think me their father. One will hang off one arm, one from the other, and they will do naught but plague me until I give in to them. When they are hurt or frightened, they cry out to me. 

Eldaron resents this, but he thinks it still too early to let them see Aragorn. Indeed, he is still a fright to see, hollow-cheeked, with burning eyes. 

And we all keep both eyes on the black-clad vassals that swarm like flies on a corpse. 

What are we now but a corpse? There will be little enough left of Gondor or Mirkwood when Sauron gains full strength. Imprisoning us here was a brilliant move from him. Who knows who is in charge, what happens back in our homes? 

And I can see no way out. 

----- 

I walked in to find Aragorn standing in the middle of his chamber, half-dressed, crying. 

He was holding a token Arwen once gave him. It had slipped out of a hitherto unchecked pocket. 

I moved to comfort him, putting my arms about his still, stiff, straight body. He shook beneath my hands, and his tears drenched my shoulder where his head rested, but he made no noise. 

It was worse, this silent flood. He sobbed without letting himself cry. 

Eventually he melted against me, and dropped the pendant he held. The noise it made clattering on the floor sounded as if it could be heard for miles. 

Something strange happened. The flood of tears stopped, and he put his arms around my kneck, stroking my hair, my cheeks, my neck. We were locked in a tight embrace, and I could feel his muscles against me shifting into a diffent attitude, loving and warm. I whispered his name, and brought my hands up to stroke the tears off his face. He kissed the tips of my fingertips. 

It was erotic and almost wonderful, but strange and a little disturbing. 

It was just what I'd always wanted, but it was all wrong. 

It wasn't me he wanted, it was Arwen. He wanted his queen back, he wanted the mother of his children. 

Or maybe he just wanted a little physical comfort, something to remind him he was alive. 

It wasn't about me, and I knew it. 

But I didn't care. He began to undress me, and I easily slipped him out of the little clothing he wore, but as we moved towards the bed, kissing everywhere but lip to lip, everything changed. 

We stopped. He came back to himself. I was mortified. 

"We can't do this, Legolas." He sounded genuinely sorry. "We can't. It wasn't right, I'm sorry." He cried again and we were close again, friends only, close companions, comrades in arms. I dressed, as did he, and he went to try to work some strength back into his limbs, as I went to fetch food for the children. I felt like a chambermaid who had come _this_ close to a fatal indescresion. 

But god! I wanted it so much. I still want it. I'm yearning for him, every second, every thought, every breath. 

I'd almost forgotten how much I wanted him, wanted to have him, wanted to taste him. 

But of course, it was wrong. 

-----

Now, you know there were those lovely people who wrote me lovely reviews. Well, guess what? YOU CAN DO IT TOO! Don't be shy, come on! Dance with me! _sway, clap_ YOU TOO/CAN REVIEW! anyway, please review. And be as mean as you like! Please, tell me what's wrong with it???? How to fix would be appreiciated too. But the main thing is, let me know that you're actually reading this thing! 


	4. 4

{The author does a victory dance} Yeah, I know this chapter is way too short, and I'm sorry, but Hey! I wrote a chapter! I conquered writer's block, yippee! Thank god for President's Week vacation, eh? You guys are gonna give me lotsa lotsa reviews, aren't you? please? I'm on my knees begging ya, here....please review!! please!! 

----- 

"The Lord wants to see you." 

"He is no Lord of mine," I replied to the black-clad minion, who smirked in the way of servants who know they have enough cunning to rise in the ranks. I had seen it before, on the faces of traitors. 

Unannounced and unlooked-for, Aragorn entered the room and placed a hand on my shoulder, though whether it was to calm me or to steady himself, I do not know. In a moment he became again the King of Gondor, tall and stately, resembling the monuments of the Argonath, cowing the simpering vassal. 

"What errand has Sauron with us?" 

"My lord," the servant slimed, "My good, noble lord, I know not. Only that he desires to speak with your lordships." 

"It is a small matter, of little consequence." Sauron himself had entered. Aragorn straightened and moved up to stand before me, leaning on me only a little. 

Sauron's shape changed at his will, this we knew, but still it was a shock to see him so different from the huge, warlike creature we beheld on the day Arwen lost her life. Now he was small, smaller than either Aragorn or myself, slight, pale as cream, and as smooth; his hair was soft and dark, and he was touched by a strange beauty...I could not bring myself to look into his eyes. 

"You have two daughters, Lord Elessar," Sauron said. I felt Aragorn shudder against my shoulder. 

"Aye." 

"It does not suit me that two such lovely maidens should be brought up with no...refinement." 

"It does not matter much to me what suits you, Sauron, and I assure that all care is being taken with their...upbringing." 

I do not know what hit him, but Aragorn recoiled and staggered as though he had been struck. Sauron smiled a little and turned on his heel. 

"I will return to speak with you when you have regained a little sense," he said as he swept out. I held to Elessar's arm hard, both to keep him from falling and to hold him back. He had the air of an insulted wolf, eager to taste blood. 

His rage and strength grow daily. 

----- 

He soon grew well enough to see his daughters, I believe through pure strength of will. Eldarion came running to me as I was trying to reconcile the fueding Eva and Analera, calling joyously that I was to bring the girls to see their father. 

To my discomfort, the twins looked up at me in confusion. 

"What is 'father', Legolas?" asked Analera, the bolder of the two. Eldarion's eyes grew wide and he knelt down to look at her. 

"You remember our father, Analera. You remember our Da." She furrowed her brows a little, thinking hard, and Eva mimicked the expression. They are always eager to please their brother. 

"Look." Eldarion drew out the pendant all three children wore. "Look. Who gave you this, eh?" 

Eva burst into tears. "Da!" she cried. "Where is Da?" Analera hugged her. It was a strange sight for me, the tiny little girls embracing and their brother looking on, half worry and half satisfaction. 

"Stop your crying," the boy commanded, echoes of his father in his voice. "Come! Come see Da." 

They followed him as though they would have done so to the very ends of the earth. 

----- 

well? review, damn you! review! review! review! plllllleeeeeaaaaasssseee........urgle bargle....dying for want of reviews.... 


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